


Purgatory Comes in Many Forms

by spiralicious



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Awkward Sexual Situations, Baby is not Sam's, Dean Winchester Big Bang 2017, Domestic, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Sam Winchester, M/M, Mpreg, Original Character(s), Past Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester, Pregnant Dean, Pregnant Sex, Season/Series 08, Slice of Life, Trials of Hell, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 14:01:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10388280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiralicious/pseuds/spiralicious
Summary: As if life wasn't interesting enough with the trials, Dean realizes he's pregnant, with Benny's baby. This is, of course, after he sent Benny back to purgatory to get Sam. Dean tries to navigate his pregnancy while also dealing post second trial Sam's health issues and a crazy prophet, Kevin, taking refuge in the bunker, all while trying to maintain his non-familial relationship with his brother and his sanity.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to both my betas, Lynx212 and Cheshirejin for helping me whip this monster into shape. And a big giant thank you to my artist, Sillie82 for all the amazing artwork she did for this. 
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> [](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/Sillie82/media/Supernatural3/DeanBigBang%202016/Banner.jpg.html)  
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[ ](http://s1318.photobucket.com/user/KisukeGirl/media/DeanMirrorColorPV_zpsywyztge4.jpg.html)

Week 5

Sometimes, it took hammering him on the head to get Dean Winchester to admit to facts and stop being in denial. Other times, it took him not being able to come even close to buttoning his last pair of jeans. He was locked in the bathroom examining the now undeniable baby bump. Technically, it wasn't really a bump. It was bloating, and aside from not being able to button his already too tight jeans, with his clothes on, it was completely undetectable to everyone else. But to Dean, he might as well have been smuggling a basketball under there. He had known something was off for a while, but it had been easy enough to ignore or explain away the symptoms. They were dealing with a lot of crap with the trials, so of course he was tired. If Sam had mentioned to him that he seemed to be a little on the extra cranky side because Dean had just bit his head off, it could all be attributed to stress. Indigestion was just part of their lifestyle. His nipples had always been sensitive, though his chest was never quite this sore, and so what if he got dizzy once in awhile? None of that was a big deal, things happened, especially with the life they lived. The amped up sense of smell had been harder to ignore, as was the sudden need to hurl without notice. No, he knew what was going on, as oblivious as he had tried to be. Dean wanted to be happy, but he couldn’t. The sensation was just beyond his reach. 

He didn’t know how or what he was going to tell Sam. He had already clearly noticed something was off, even if he hadn't actually asked anything yet. They were starting to get along again and they were back together, and not just as brothers. The problem was, there was no way this was Sam’s. It had to be… Dean couldn’t think about that right now. Sam was weak from the trials and there was no way he was going to handle the news well even under the best of circumstances.

The reality of it all just tipped the scale of crap Dean was able to deal with in the other direction. He stood frozen in the bathroom with his hand protectively over the nonexistent bump. “See, Benny? There was a reason to come back.”

He stood like that a long time, eventually closing his eyes. He refused to cry about this. Dean Winchester did not cry, damn it! He could deal with this.

He just had to treat it like any case and make a plan. First, he had to make sure he was dealing with what he thought it was. For all he knew, he could have a weirdassed bug, or some parasitic monster, or maybe his body was doing something it was supposed to that he wasn't aware of. It wasn’t like he would know. He'd been on birth control constantly since he found out he was a carrier when he was nineteen until he got zapped to Purgatory. It's not like his body had ever had a chance to do whatever it was supposed to do. To do that though, he'd have to leave the house and there was no way he was fastening his pants.

Dean thought a moment. He could turn a Walkman into an EMF reader, he could figure out how to temporarily close his pants. Sam had hair ties. Dean had seen him wear his hair up on rare occasions. They were probably in his brother’s room. He squared his shoulders and marched his way that direction. Dean knew Sam was asleep and considering how he'd been feeling lately, it was unlikely he'd wake up if Dean entered his room, or even remember it later if he did. Still, Dean took a deep breath to steady himself before he opened Sam's door.

Of course Sam couldn't just leave them lying around. That would have been too easy. Dean hunted through Sam's nightstand and dresser drawers in quiet frustration. He was so caught up in his own mental state, it took him by surprise when Sam whined from the bed. Dean took a moment to watch him. Sam was sleeping deeply, but he twitched fitfully. His face was pinched in pain. Dean reached out and lightly brushed the hair from Sam's forehead and stroked his hair a moment, not wanting to wake his brother. It made Dean feel that much more guilt. He shook his head. He was on a mission. Get to the pharmacy, then go back to worrying about Sam. Dean turned his attention back to the nightstand and finally found two hair ties. He fled Sam's room, snatching one of Sam's old hoodies on the way out.

Once in the safety of “anywhere that wasn't Sam's room,” Dean mechanically looped one hair tie through the hole in his zipper before pulling and slipping it through itself making a lark's head knot and secured the free end of the loop over the button of his fly to keep them zipped. He took the other hair tie and looped it through the buttonhole of his fly in another lark's head knot, looping the free end again over the button. It wasn't perfect, but it would hold. He brought Sam's hoodie up to his nose. Dean hadn't even realized he'd taken it. Despite, the guilt and worry eating its way through him, Sam's smell was still comforting and he pulled it over his head and practically jogged to the stairs to the garage before he could give that more thought.

Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel while he drove, his jaw clenched the whole way. Though it was only a few miles to the pharmacy, it felt like it took years to get there, the nervous energy making him fidget the whole way. Too many thoughts were swirling in his head. None of them were helpful. He didn't remember actually arriving at the pharmacy or parking, but at least it didn't look like he hit anyone and his Baby was between the white lines, so another check in the win column.

Sitting in the parking lot, Dean rested his forehead on the steering wheel. He suddenly couldn't move from driver's seat. He'd faced down monsters, demons, angels, and, hell, the apocalypse, but apparently, buying a pregnancy test was his line in the sand. He knew he could drive home. He could keep ignoring the problem and be like one of those girls you see on the news that doesn't have a clue they were pregnant until the kid just slips out of them in the bathroom one day. Except, he did have a clue. Not knowing for sure would make him a liability they couldn't afford right now. It wouldn't be fair to Sam and it wouldn't be fair to Kevin

“Damn it! Man up, Winchester,” Dean grunted to himself as he forced himself out of the car, slamming the driver's door shut a little harder than necessary. He winced a bit at the noise, but marched towards the sliding glass doors. He had a tremendous urge to put up the hood on his borrowed hoodie, but was able to stop himself. Then it would look like he was robbing the place and he was trying to go with inconspicuous. Though he was already drawing attention to himself. That happens when you are over six feet tall and muttering angrily at yourself in public. Dean tried to relax and walked to the back of the pharmacy with the cold cases of soda and beer, before looping around the perimeter of the store to “family planning” aisle. He was able to fool himself into believing that his bit of misdirection had covered where he was really going and luckily, he had found the aisle easy enough on his own.

He had not been prepared for the sheer number of choices that awaited him. Or the prices. Why on earth would a pregnancy test be over twenty dollars? It was insanity. He read boxes. Some were for women only. All of them claimed to be the most accurate. Some had three or four in the box, which made him feel marginally better about the prices, but not much. Did people think that finding out whether or not you were pregnant was a luxury? Right now, Dean didn't think so. He didn't realize he was angrily muttering to himself again while he debated over which one to get until he noticed a small group was forming at the end of the aisle watching him. “Can't a guy get a little privacy?” He growled at them and grabbed three boxes with the giant yellow sticker proclaiming, “ninety-eight percent accuracy guaranteed for men too!”

Dean backtracked, grabbing a gallon of orange juice from the cold case in the back. He marched towards the register and remembered Kevin said something about wanting deodorant. Making a dramatic loop, he managed to find that aisle on the first try and grabbed a stick at random. Looking down at his intended purchases, Dean had some new fit of insanity that told him he needed to buy more things to make it look like he wasn't just buying a bunch of pregnancy tests. He grabbed a couple magazines, a bag of candy, a handful of beef sticks, and floss without paying much, if any, attention to what he was doing before he tried to casually get in line at the sole checkstand. The fact that half the pharmacy was staring at him didn't help.

Apparently, the cashier wasn't exactly impressed either. She stared at him unblinkingly with the most judgmental glare Dean Winchester had ever seen on another human being. She only stopped to look him up and down with an arched eyebrow as she scanned the third box of pregnancy tests. There was no small talk. The only words she spoke to him was the total, which she punctuated with a snap of her gum. He dropped a wad of cash on the counter, snatched his bag away, and left without waiting to see if he had given her the correct amount or if he had change coming. Dean managed the march out the door with his head held high, even if he was going double time towards his car.

He started drinking the orange juice straight from the jug on the drive back to the bunker. He was still working on it when he came down the stairs. The moment he hit the bottom step, he tossed his bag towards the nearest table. Having the contents in such close proximity to him was starting to make his skin crawl. He choked down the last of his orange juice while doing the quickest perimeter check of his life. Dean didn't need anymore unexpected surprises right now and he really didn't need either of his bunker-mates popping in on him either. Sam was still crashed hard in bed, though now he was half hanging off of it, but he didn't seem to be as fitful as before. Kevin was in his room scribbling away. When Dean had tried to communicate with him, Kevin threw a shoe at the door. Dean figured that meant Kevin was going to be in there awhile, but later he was going to have to figure out where exactly Kevin got that shoe as it was obviously not Kevin's and Dean didn't recognize it as his or Sam's.

Dean marched back out to where he had tossed the bag from the pharmacy. He hovered over it, trying to will himself to open it and take out the pregnancy tests. “Get it together, Winchester. They're pregnancy tests, not a bomb,” Dean growled at himself. His brain decided to remind him on his way to the bathroom that they were, in fact, both. Dean hated his brain sometimes.

He read the instructions three times. This was the most important research of his life, he was not fucking it up. That did not prevent him from pissing on his hand at the first go. He couldn't help thinking that if he was having this much trouble, how did women do this? He tried to distract himself by remembering that these tiny sticks were probably the most expensive things he's ever peed on. It helped, a little.

After fleeing the bathroom as soon as possible, Dean set the timer on the stove. It was the longest three minutes of his life. Forty seconds in, he grabbed a beer from the fridge for something to do. He popped off the cap on autopilot and it wasn't until the glass of the bottle touched his bottom lip that he realized what he was doing and immediately poured it down the sink. Frantically, he started pulling all the beer from the fridge, also the two six packs he hid in the bottom oven. Irrationally, he decided he needed new places to hide beer. The fact that it was nearly impossible to hide something from yourself was lost on him. His real problem that every hiding spot he could think of to shove the easy access beer was already filled with a bottle of something harder. Half the contents of the kitchen were scattered about on the floor and counters when the timer went off.

Dean froze. The last time he could remember being this scared was when he had ghost sickness. Slowly, he stood up and dusted imaginary dirt off his clothes. He tried to remember to breathe as he walked towards the bathroom.

They were where he had left them, lined up like a row of enemy soldiers waiting to advance. Twelve little blue pluses were staring back at him. He was going to be sick.

There was a bottle of whiskey under the bathroom sink behind the toilet bowl cleaning liquid. Dean fished it out on autopilot and started to take a swig. His eyes locked with his reflection in the mirror and immediately dumped the bottle down the sink. He started to realize he might have a problem.

“Fuck off, conscience. I don't have a problem, I have a parasite,” He was not ready to say or think the word baby yet.

Dean combed the bathroom for anymore bottles he might have hidden there. Remembering he finished the only other bottle in there last week, he moved on to the next room. He slowly worked his way from room to room. When he had gathered as many bottles as he could carry at once, he marched towards the kitchen.

He twisted off each cap and turned them downwards in the kitchen sink arranged around the drain, getting as many bottles into the sink without breaking anything as possible. Dean watched the booze pour down the drain mournfully. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard his brother talking from the doorway.

Sam half hung in the doorway peering at him, clearly not understanding what he was looking at. “Dean... what are you doing?” His voice sounded raw and hoarse, making Dean wince.

He bit his lip. “Sam... we got to talk.”

Dean sat across the war room table from Sam. He had trouble looking at him and couldn't figure out what to do with his hands. Sam looked awful. His brother's face looked sickly pale and slick. His eyes were red. Dean knew Sam's fever was down again for the moment, but he couldn't remember the last time his brother had eaten.

“Dean? What's wrong?” Sam was tilting a little in his chair. His eyes were squinted in concern.

“Um, well...” Dean's voice sounded hoarse to his own ears. He swallowed and bit his lip. “I'm, um, I'm pregnant, Sam,” He finally looked up at Sam.

Sam sat back in his chair, his head tilted in confusion. “How? I mean I don't know anyone more anal about birth control than you and you don't even...”

“Yeah, well a year in Purgatory will get a guy off the habit,” Dean interrupted.

Sam scoffed in disbelief, clearly in as much denial as Dean wanted to be. “Did you even take a test? I mean one can be wrong and...”

“Twelve, Sam. I took twelve tests. Twelve tests aren't wrong.”

Sam was quiet. He looked thoughtful, his head tilted in concentration. Dean wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not.

After a few moments, Sam nodded his head, apparently coming to some sort of conclusion. “Okay... so we'll get him. I mean I get why you didn't tell me, but we'll take care of it.”

“Whoa, whoa, get who, Sam?”

“Whoever...” Sam trailed and nodded towards Dean.

“Sam, no one...” Dean took a deep breath, it finally hitting him, why Sam thought the only way he was pregnant was if someone raped him. “No one forced me, Sam.”

Confusion played across Sam's face for a brief moment before his eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. “Who, Dean?”

“You and I weren't even talking, Sam.”

“Who, Dean?” Sam practically shouted at him. He was shaking a little.

Dean suspected he already knew the answer. “It's Benny's, Sam,” he answered quietly.

“Benny,” Sam practically spit out the name. He let out an incredulous rough cough of a laugh and bit his lip.

“Sam...”

“Is this why you... we...”

“I didn't know, Sam.”

“Right,” Sam got up and practically tripped over his own feet as he tried to stomp his way towards his room. He stopped and turned back. “Your timing fucking sucks, Dean! We're two thirds of the way through the trials. You fucking dragged Kevin back here.”

“You saw how fucking batshit he was getting on the boat, Sam!”

“He was safe there and, newsflash, he's still fucking batshit, Dean! What the hell are we supposed to do now, Dean?!”

“Sam...”

“Don't. Just... Don't.”

“I cut off his fucking head for you, Sam.”

“You thought he was coming back.”

The sounds of Sam's heavy foot steps back to his room and the slam of his door were deafening in the wake of their argument.

Dean swallowed. What were they going to do?

WEEK 6

Dean wasn't sure how much of his lack of sleep was from the stress of him and his brother trying to avoid each other or how much from his near constant need to pee. Part of him was glad he'd thought to pour the booze down the drain. He'd never wanted to be drunk so much in his entire life. Not that he would have probably been able to keep it down anyway. He craved any sort of numbness now more than ever. Nightmares of hell and Purgatory being replaced with Benny telling him how he bailed because he knew how horrible a father Dean was going to be and couldn't bare to watch. Sam hadn't talked to him the past week except that one time he “accidentally” knocked Dean's coffee cup off the table because “wasn't he worried about caffeine hurting the baby?” And Kevin, oh God, Kevin. Their young prophet rarely left his room except to scurry to the kitchen and back to his room like a scared rat.

As bloated as he was, Dean was fairly certain he was actually losing weight. He didn't know what that meant in the long run, but at this point he figured Sam was actually consuming more food than he was. Not, that he had a clue how Sam was actually doing at the moment. He hadn't seen any sort of increase in bloody tissue in the waste bins and Sam hadn't collapsed anywhere that he knew of, so Dean put it in the plus column for the moment.

He tried to get his head back into treating his pregnancy like a case. He knew what the creature was, that meant more research to figure out what to do about it. The next step seemed to be setting up a check up with an actual doctor. It seemed straightforward enough. He'd found a nearby clinic. Dean hadn't quite worked up the nerve to actually try to make an appointment yet, but had done research online to try to figure out what exactly that was going to entail. The number and descriptions of tests, as well as questions he was going to have to come up with an answer for left his head swimming. He'd definitely been through worse, but this was a part of his anatomy and life he'd been ignoring and denying the existence of since he figured out that it existed in the first place. It made him uncomfortable and feel unmanly, deformed even. He still cringed when he remembered his father's reaction when he'd first found out. Dean had been nineteen and passed out from a bad reaction to the birth control he'd been on at the time. John had found him in a gas station bathroom after it had taken him too long to get back to the car. Dean will never forget the look on John's face when the doctor at the emergency room explained what had happened. John didn't speak to Dean for a week. After that, it had been months before John had stopped making snide remarks under his breath when he was drunk or rolled his eyes when Dean had to go get his prescription filled. Dean had worked his ass off to prove that he wasn't a liability. He could deal with it. Other hunters weren't going to find out. Leave it to Dean to be a late bloomer in this one area.

He shook his head to try and clear it and scrubbed his face with his hand. He grabbed a nearby notebook and pen to start taking notes of things he'd need to know and look up before what looked to be the first of many long doctor's appointments.

Man, he wanted a drink.

WEEK 7

The drooling was getting out of hand. Even Sam had broken the silent treatment he was giving him to ask if he was drooling. He was carrying a rag around in his pocket for Christ's sake. He wanted to make jokes about it, there had to be some sort of sexual application for this, he was sure of it, but with Kevin locked in his room and Sam avoiding him like the plague, it sucked any fun he might have gotten out of it.

There was something worse than the drooling though, (and the nausea, constipation, exhaustion, constantly needing to pee, and indigestion), he had breasts. He'd always been a little soft there and they weren't big. If he put on a looseish t-shirt they disappeared, but they'd taken on a roundness they didn't have before. His nipples were getting ridiculous as well. They had always been perky, but now he needed a new word for it. Between that and how sensitive they were, he'd taken up wearing an extra shirt. It didn't help much. Dean had looked online for ideas. There was a special garment for pregnant men that he had found, but no matter how he looked at it, it was still a bra. He was not wearing a bra, ever.

In the win column, he had managed to make an appointment with a doctor at the clinic. Better, he had thought to ask what he'd need to know for the appointment. Dean tried to make a list. They wanted to know whether his cycles were regular and how long they lasted. He had no clue. Before he went to Purgatory, he kept medicated to point of not having them and in Purgatory, he wasn't exactly paying attention. Even if he had, he didn't know what regular was. Listing any symptoms he'd had since his last... thing... he could do, except for the part about knowing when his last... he just couldn't say it... was. They also wanted a list of any other “down there” issues he'd ever had, including sexually transmitted diseases, any chronic conditions and medications used to treat them, psychiatric problems, past surgeries or hospitalizations, habits that could affect his pregnancy, like drinking, and whether or not he had any other problems that could affect his safety or “emotional well-being.” This was going to be fun. He could see it now. “Oh yeah, Doc, I've been completely ignoring half my reproductive organs my entire life and can't even mention them or their functions by name without freaking out, I've taken so many weirdassed things over my life, I can't even begin to name them all, I have regular indiscriminate sex with strange women, and sometimes my brother, I'm sort of famous in Hell, I've recently come back from Purgatory, my body's been broken and patched back together in more ways than I can count, my blood is probably ninety percent alcohol at this point, and I am attacked by supernatural creatures on a regular basis, but the baby will be fine right?”

That was before he tried putting together a family medical history. “Mom burned on the ceiling, my dad died selling his soul, and my brother used to be infected with demon blood, but now some heavenly trials seem to be turning his insides into jello, but you probably don't have to worry about the baby inheriting any of that, right?” Dean groaned and let his forehead hit the table.

The nurse on the phone also told him that they would want to know if the baby's father or anyone his family had a chromosomal or genetic disorder. He had a feeling being a vampire wasn't something they would be prepared to deal with.

She also mentioned that he might want to wear nice socks. That was at least something he could do fairly easily.

He lifted his head and looked at the table around him. Along with his notebook, he was surrounded by all the vampire related lore he could find in the Men of Letter's archives. There wasn't anything he could find that was even remotely helpful regarding babies created between a vampire and a human. He could really use Sam's help with this, but that wasn't going to be happening anytime soon. He'd read so much he was starting to go cross-eyed and for once he was actually hungry. It seemed like a good time to take a food break.

One thing he was not expecting to see in the kitchen was Kevin. Dean hadn't said anything to Kevin yet and he assumed Sam hadn't either. Their young prophet had been hold up in his room since his arrival, only venturing out in the dead of night when he was sure neither Winchester was roaming around, at least that was what Dean had assumed based on the noises he heard at night. It was possible the bunker had very large mice. “Hey, Kev...” Dean offered up a small wave.

Kevin turned around to stare at him wild eyed, armed with a spare skillet.

“Whoa, whoa,” Dean raised his hands in mild surrender. “Haven't seen you out and about lately.”

“Hungry,” Kevin grumbled and turned back towards the stove. Dean could see him poking a hot dog back and forth across the surface of a skillet on the stove. It was very reminiscent of the last time he saw him cooking at the houseboat.

He grimaced. “Dude, I think it might be time to lay off the hot dogs.”

Kevin turned to glare at him once again. The thick bags under his eyes made him look a bit like a raccoon.

“Seriously, at least have something with it.” Dean cautiously moved around the prophet to grab a bag of macaroni noodles out of the cupboard. “You think you can man a grater?” he asked while turning towards the fridge.

Kevin's face pinched in confusion for a few moments, before he rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“Good.” Dean plopped a brick of cheddar cheese and a box grater into Kevin's hands. “You better get to work then.” He turned back to boiling the noodles, figuring Kevin was either going to grate cheese or scurry back to his room. He had no say in it at this point, but decided if he just kept talking, Kevin might stay. Dean had no control over whether or not Sam was eating and he sure as hell didn't get any choice on what and when he could keep something down, but he sure as hell could make sure Kevin ate something. “You know mac and cheese is really simple. It's just noodles, flour, butter, milk, and cheese. Sure you can fancy it up a bit, but why mess with perfection, right?” He turned and saw Kevin grating away, maybe listening. “You know when we were kids, sometimes I'd put cut up hot dogs and potato chips on Sam's, but that was stuff from the box. This is better.” Dean continued rambling about anything and everything that popped into his head until his noodles were boiled and drained and he mixed in his white sauce. Quickly, he spooned some onto a plate for Kevin to try. “There, isn't that better than some lousy hot dog?”

Kevin cautiously took a bite and groan loudly with satisfaction. Dean smirked. It felt good to actually solve a problem he could deal with for a change.

WEEK 8

Dean was not entirely sure how he had managed to talk Sam into going with him. Mostly likely, it had just been dogged persistence on his part combined with Sam being to weak to argue. It didn't matter. Sam was there in the examination room with him. To Dean, that was an important step to dealing with his... issue. Maybe Sam wouldn't forgive him and they wouldn't be like they were. Dean could understand that. He wouldn't like it, but he could deal. He couldn't deal with Sam running out of his life again. So, yeah, Sam was pissy and he made everyone in the waiting room nervous. He was an angry giant that looked like he was dying of the plague, making those around him exceedingly uncomfortable wasn't hard to do. But Sam had come and actually went back into the examination room with him, so that was a win.

Of course now, he was remembering that they were in an examination room where some doctor was going to ask him a lot of questions, neither he or Sam wanted to think about, and was going to prod around a part of his anatomy he would rather not exist and frankly, when they did get along, like really got along, Sam was a bit pissy he never got to prod around that particular bit of Dean's anatomy himself. He could only imagine what the car ride home was going to be like and Dean was having a hard time remembering why having Sam there and not going to the doctor alone was a good thing.

The easy parts were over. He'd peed in a cup, been weighed and interrogated by the nurse, and now it was time to put on a tiny paper gown and sit on a freezing cold table while listening to the sanitary paper crinkle. Sam had more or less just leaned against the wall and looked semi-menacing through all of that. He hadn't even tried to play nice with the nurse, or speak with her when she tried to do the nice small talk dance. Dean was fairly sure that was going to bite him in the ass later. Now, they were waiting. And waiting. Dean was going to comment on the birth control posters, but Sam's scowl kept him quiet. By the time he was about to walk out in the hallway and start running back and forth yelling just for something different to do, paper gown and all, a tiny old woman came in and introduced herself as Dr. Ueda. Dean didn't know what he had been expecting, but it wasn't that and he didn't know how he felt about it. He also noticed she had a different nurse in tow.

She was pleasant enough, he guessed. He liked her directness, mostly because it hopefully meant that this would be over sooner rather than later. He wasn’t particularly thrilled with the way she kept looking at Sam.

“Who's this?”

Dean got wide-eyed. He had hoped he didn't have to answer that question. He had hoped that he and Sam would make up before the baby was born, so it would be extra awkward going to appointments with Sam as his “partner” if the doctor knew he was his brother, but the way things were now, brother would make more sense, as well as being honest. “He's my uh...”

“Moral support.” Sam finished for him gruffly with a sniff. He looked the farthest from “support” as you could get.

The doctor looked Sam up and down very slowly and looked at Dean disapprovingly before nodding and carrying on with the appointment. Dean was fairly certain he was going to get some sort of card or pamphlet before he left that had nothing to do with his pregnancy.

He also got to answer most of the questions the nurse had asked him earlier again while being poked and prodded. She was a bit rough for someone so tiny.

Then of course she asked him to lay back while the nurse got out some sort of large blanket.

Right, Dean had almost forgotten about that part. He had really sort of hoped they were going to skip that part, even though he knew better. He laid back and stared at the ceiling pretending he was somewhere else, which was difficult. Hopefully, Sam was taking some sort of mental notes if Dr. Ueda was actually saying anything important. Dean had managed to tune out her chatter with a Metallica song. It didn’t stop him from tensing up and making things worse. No amount of telling him to relax was going to make him relax. He just really hated being touched there and couldn’t help it (with one notable exception that got him into this mess in the first place).

It surprised Dean when he felt Sam stand closer to him at the table. He looked at his brother who was pointedly not looking at him and intensely scrutinizing something on the wall, but he was right next to the table. Sam had his hand next to Dean’s on the table as well. It wasn’t like he was holding his hand or anything, but their knuckles were touching. Sam maybe pissed at him, but he obviously didn’t want to see Dean in pain or anything either. That was something, right?

After that “fun” activity was over, Dr. Ueda asked, “Will the father be joining us at a later appointment?”

Sam stepped away from Dean. The loss of that tiny contact felt like a stone in his gut.

“Uh, that’s uh, that’s going to be a bit difficult. He’s, well, dead.” Dean finished with the worse fake smile he’d ever pulled out of his ass.

After that awkward exchange, the doctor offered to show them the baby. Dean noticed Sam looked suddenly engaged at that.

“You can see it already?”

The doctor chuckled at Sam as she set up the machine. Dean squirmed under the cold gel. It wasn't long before the doctor was pointing out a blur on the screen. Time stood still. He couldn't breathe. He thought he was going to pass out when he felt Sam take his hand and squeeze. Dean looked up at his brother. Sam's eyes were staring at the screen. His expression unreadable. This was really happening.

Dean spent the rest of the day in a daze. Sam had to drive home. He couldn't tell you what he had for dinner. He couldn't tell you anything other than the detail of the little ultrasound printout he carried from the clinic and spent the rest of the day studying.

When Dean woke up the bunker was oddly quiet. He called for Sam. Not getting a response, he searched the bunker, fearing Sam had passed out again or hit his head after losing his balance again. Not finding him during his frantic hunt, he knocked on Kevin's door.

Kevin pulled his door open more forcefully than necessary. “What?” He swayed a bit and leaned to the left. The angry glare he was giving Dean seemed to be wearing him out.

Dean took a mental note that he needed to remember to force Kevin to leave his room every few days or so. “You seen Sam?”

“Do I look like I’ve seen Sam?” Kevin slammed the door shut before Dean could take a breath, let alone respond. He was barely able to move his fingers out of the doorway in time.

Dean went back to Sam's room, looking for any sort of sign of what his brother might be up to. Sam's wallet and cell phone were gone, but his laptop was still there. He figured that was a sign that Sam probably hadn't bailed, probably. A nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him that Sam had bailed with less before. Dean went to find his own cell phone to try and ignore it. He had been fairly certain that he had brought it to bed with him, but he turned his room upside down searching for it with no luck. He didn’t find it in the library, the war room, or the bathroom.

After forty five minutes, Dean had convinced himself that not only had Sam decided to bail after the doctor's appointment the day before, that he destroyed and flushed Dean's cell phone so he wouldn't be able to find him. He started towards the garage to see if he had made off with Baby on top of it when he heard the door to the bunker creak open.

Sam came down the stairs, moving steadier than he had in awhile. He was laden down with bags, a flat of Gatorade, and a large cup with a straw precariously balanced on top.

Dean rushed forward to help. “Where the hell have you been?”

Sam blinked as though he was confused by his brother's outrage. “I went on a supply run.”

“A supply run?” They brought Sam's haul to the nearest table.

“Yeah, you need... stuff?”

“I need stuff?”

“Yeah.” Sam shrugged and started unloading. “Uh, ginger ale, mints, some water because you keep complaining that the tap water tastes funny, prenatal vitamins, toilet paper...”

“Toilet paper?”

“The good toilet paper.” Sam shrugged with one shoulder.

Dean nodded and allowed Sam to continue. “Crackers, ginger chews, Gatorade, gum, and mouthwash because you know, the drooling. The lady at the health food shop swore by this weird bread and she recommended some ginger oil and cardamon oil to help with... things and some more vitamins.”

“The lady at the health food store?” Dean picked up and looked at the loaf of multigrain organic bread in disgust.

“She's had six kids. I figured she'd know. Oh!” Sam reached over and handed Dean the takeaway cup with the straw. “Breakfast.”

Dean stared at it. “It's green.”

“It's good for you.”

Dean stared at his brother.

“She promised it tasted like bananas.”

“How does it taste on the way back up?”

“Just drink it.”

Dean decided to change subject. “What's this?” he asked poking at a bag they hadn't gone through yet.

“Oh,” Sam looked embarrassed. “I thought you could use some more comfortable pants.”

Dean let it go for the moment. “You wouldn't by any chance know what happened to my phone?”

Sam walked out of the room and came back with Dean's cell phone. “I downloaded some stuff for you.”

“Stuff?”

“Baby stuff.”

“So, just to be clear...” Dean started.

Sam hugged him.

Dean appreciated the crushing embrace, but, “Sam, I know I’m usually telling you to shut up, but I kind of need some words here.”

“I’m here, Dean. Okay, we got this.”

Dean relaxed until another realization sprung on him, “Oh, crap. We have to tell Kevin.”

“Tell Kevin what?”

Both brothers turned to look where Kevin was standing, watching them and eating cereal out of the box by the handful. “That you’re pregnant? The row of pregnancy tests someone left in the bathroom kind of clued me in. Ew, by the way. And twelve is seriously overkill.”

“You ever been pregnant?”

“No.”

“Then shut up.”

WEEK 9

Sam had hidden the coffee. Dean would kill him if he wasn't so exhausted. Earlier, he picked through the cupboards trying to find something, anything that wouldn't require too much thought or energy to turn into food. Peanut butter and crackers won out. Dean wasn’t sure if he actually wanted them or was just tired of looking and gave up, letting that be his choice by default. He was trying snacking instead of meals like the doctor suggested in an attempt to keep more food down. It sounded ridiculous, but it did seem to be sort of working. Also, since he and Sam were getting along again for the moment, Dean used his little snack breaks as an excuse to shove bits of food down his brother as well. That seemed to be going well enough. Sam didn't argue too much and he seemed to be keeping it down as long as they kept things small. Taking care of Sam again also had the pleasant side effect of not worrying about the... parasite too much.

Dean was fairly certain Sam was taking advantage of Dean's exhausted state though. Sam still had to rest often and since the doctor's appointment, Sam had been subtly, and not so subtly, asking Dean to join him. He was too tired to really refuse. His research on vampires had run dry and there was only so much pregnancy recon you could do in a day. Who was Dean kidding? He didn't need an excuse. Being with Sam was nice, even if was just petting his hair while he slept. There had been so much fighting, before and after Purgatory, that it was good to have a breather and he was too bone weary with life in general for the down time to drive him nuts.

There was one little problem. Kevin seemed to have lost all the manners that Mrs. Tran had drilled into him while he was living on the houseboat. Their young prophet just randomly walked into whatever room without knocking, not that either of the Winchesters were up to doing anything. It was more the principle of the matter than the invasion of privacy itself. Dean tried locking the door, but Kevin just yelled through it, like he was now.

“Where. Is. The. Coffee. Dean.”

“Kevin, for the billionth time, I have no idea and if you wake up Sam, I swear to God, Nair is going to magically find its way into your shampoo.”

“Like you can find my shampoo!”

Dean was going to yell back something about how Kevin really shouldn't be squirreling away all his belongings into hidey holes like, well, a squirrel, but he heard Kevin walk away from the door. Most likely some other thought got his attention. Since they'd stopped the trials, Kevin had lost a lot of his ability to focus on much for long. At least this time it hadn't been a rant about how the two of them were on the same schedule like a couple of preschoolers.

Sam whined and arched away from Dean, getting his attention. He tried to soothe Sam without waking him up, but he noticed Sam's fever was back. His brother wasn't too warm yet, but he was still sliding out of bed to get the Tylenol and one of those cold forehead sticky things. 

So much for not worrying.

WEEK 10

Dean could not stop himself from looking. With clothes on, he could convince himself that he didn't look any different at all, but now he was naked. It was just going to be a quick look between getting out of the shower and dressing as fast as possible. However, it was too terrifying and fascinating to not stare. He was a fucking road map. His fingers traced the thick blue lines of his veins that crisscrossed his chest and abdomen, only to find a new horror as he got further south. His tummy was round. What had previously been bit of extra padding that he could explain way as too many cheeseburgers that day … was still only a bit of extra padding that he could explain away as too many cheeseburgers that day, but now it had a semi-defined shape. To Dean, it was just as loud and obnoxious as a Vegas billboard advertising “Baby growing here! Pregnant man present.”

He quickly threw on his clothes and stomped his way towards the kitchen to distract himself. They would have to resupply soon. Sam was in no shape to be trusted to go anywhere by himself and Kevin, well, he wouldn't send Kevin anywhere even if he hadn't been insisting on the crazy hermit routine. Anyway, Dean needed to make sure prune juice was added to the every growing list of annoying crap that now had to be added to their weekly supply run and he really didn't want to have the “I need you to add prune juice to the grocery list” conversation with Sam anyway.

While doing a quick inventory, a brightly colored poster caught his attention.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Dean stood glaring down at Sam, expecting some kind of response.

Sam eyed him like a bomb he’d been asked to defuse. He’d been getting that look a lot lately. That just pissed him off more. It seemed the farther along he got, the more he was being “handled,” like there was some conspiracy to prove he was some kind of moron. His bump was just barely noticeable under his loose t-shirt. There was going to be almost thirty more weeks of this.

Sam looked like knew he was screwed. “Why do you ask?” he asked cautiously.

Dean held up a large piece of paper and flapped it in front of Sam. “This!”

Sam took the offending paper from his brother to look at it more closely, and quite possibly to stop the annoying flapping in his face. It was a pregnancy nutrition poster that looked suspiciously like the same one that he saw hanging in the clinic they used. Knowing Sam, he had probably thought that it would be helpful, not that Dean was currently exercising that kind of logic. It talked about how many servings of what kinds of foods, Dean should be eating and had little pictures of the foods that had the nutrients in each category. It was basically a big glaring _pregnancy_ food pyramid and Dean wasn’t having that shit. Sam had the nerve to hang it up in the kitchen next to the list of things the doctor told Dean he couldn’t eat. “Why are you pissed about this now? It’s been in the kitchen for weeks.”

“Oh, so now I am so stupid I can’t even notice a poster?” Dean could hear the “crazy eyes” even as he said it, but he couldn't stop himself. He just knew that Sam and Kevin were plotting about how to handle his pregnancy behind his back, without consulting him, like it didn't affect or concern him. That crap stopped now.

“That’s not what I meant!”

Dean just glared at his brother with his arms folded in front of him.

Sam sighed. “I figured Kevin and I would have to take on more of the cooking and who can remember all that crap?”

Dean relaxed a little. That answer had surprised him. Maybe he was being a little unreasonable and they weren't actually plotting against him. It was entirely possible they were trying to be helpful and maybe Dean needed to try to remember that his pregnancy affected more than himself, maybe. He snatched the poster away from Sam and marched off in the other direction. Dean also decided to pretend he didn't hear Sam mutter something about double checking that he had hidden all the ammo after Dean went to bed.

He’d pretend for now, but he made no promises for later. 

WEEK 11

It had been stupid to leave the door open. To be fair, it's not like Dean had done it on purpose. He wasn't sure what had come over him. He'd seen his reflection in the mirror and felt a sudden urge to shove a pillow up his shirt, just to see, and then he couldn't stop staring.

“Dean?” Sam looked as uncomfortable as Dean felt.

“What?” He quickly pulled the pillow out of his shirt and pretended to be doing nothing, badly.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

“Nope.”

“You sure?”

“Yup.”

“Alright then.” Sam cleared his throat, he knew a do not enter sign when he saw one. He seemed to be weighing his options, trying to figure out what to say. “You hungry?”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean scratched the back of his head and frowned before grabbing his phone and leaving the room. He also wasn’t wearing Sam’s sweatshirt for the first time in quite a while and he hoped Sam hadn't noticed that his shirts weren’t quite covering his tiny baby bump anymore.

Sam made Dean a sandwich. Dean was torn. His brother did not make him sandwiches. He bought him sandwiches on occasion, but Sam didn't make food. Even his creepy rabbit food came from the store pre-made, except those ghoulish shake drink things in the weird cup with the balls in them, but Dean had hidden all those. He wanted to hover. Not that Sam wasn't a grown up that was incapable of making a damn sandwich, but he was also a shaky giant who had been prone to suddenly losing his balance for no reason lately... that was now wielding a knife. Sam seemed oddly on point today though, so Dean stayed in his chair and watched.

His brother seemed startled when he turned around to find that Dean had him under close scrutiny, so Dean coughed in a feeble attempt to cover up what he was doing. Sam's expression clearly said he wasn't buying it, but he opted not to say anything when he slid a plate in front of Dean.

It didn’t escape Dean’s notice that Sam had not made a plate for himself when he sat down. “Dude, aren't you eating?”

Sam shrugged. Dean immediately ripped his sandwich in half and put it on the table in front of Sam, along with all the baby carrots Sam had tried to sneak on his plate.

“Dean, I'm not eight.”

Dean gave him an incredulous look and handed him part of his Cheetos as well.

Sam played with a carrot, tapping it on the table and turning it in his fingers, clearly avoiding looking at Dean. “So, I was thinking...”

Dean realized this wasn't a sandwich, it was a trap.

“The doctor said you should do your best to get in some light exercise.”

“And?” Dean challenged.

“You know yoga...”

“No, Sam. For the billionth time, no.”

WEEK 12

Dean really had tried to exercise. He even tried yoga for about five seconds. But the dizzy spells were becoming more frequent, on top of being tired, achy, and everything else. He was fed up with falling over and bumping into things. He felt trapped, he wanted the body he was familiar with, back. 

Sam wasn't doing a whole lot better. It had been a few days since the last fever and Dean couldn't remember the last bout of him coughing up blood, but he was even more accident prone than before. Sam was dropping things before he could pick them up good and running into walls as if he received bonus points for the action. Dean finally talked him into staying in bed, at least for a while.

Kevin wasn't helping. He was finally spending time outside of his room, even eating with them like a bonafide person, but about the only time he opened his mouth to talk was to continue his running commentary on how they needed to pad the entire bunker.

Having reached his fill of running into things and Kevin's incessant commentary, Dean retreated to an empty portion of the library to poke at his laptop. He was still trying to come up with something to support and protect his still very sensitive chest that in no way resembled a bra. A bra was just not happening, ever. 

This of course lead to him going down the dangerous rabbit hole of pregnancy facts splattered across the internet.

“What do you mean they’re not going to shrink back?!”

“What are you yelling about?” was Sam’s retort as he appeared in the doorway gripping the frame. Apparently, Dean's voice had carried, but at the moment he didn't care.

“My feet are going to stay this size!”

“Your feet are the same size they’ve always been.” Sam looked very confused.

“I’m going to be a giant footed, hairy, clumsy, gassy, fat man with a shrunken brain and a super-human sense of smell!”

“What the hell are you reading, Dean?” Sam lurched forward, clearly determined to protect his brother from himself.

“The seven wackiest pregnancy symptoms. It's from this website with all kinds of lists; nine major decisions to make during pregnancy, five things every dad should do for mom to be, how to name a baby, ten things to know about the second trimester, sex positions during pregnancy, how to cut out caffeine, how to create a birth plan…” Dean was clearly getting more hysterical with each list titled he spouted off.

Sam abruptly closed Dean’s laptop and tucked it under his arm. “I think you’ve done enough research tonight.”

WEEK 13

Dean was feeling relatively human. He was still tired and sudden nausea was still an ongoing thing for him, but not nearly as often. His last doctor's appointment went as well as could be expected. He was still not his doctor's favorite patient, but he did his best to be as cooperative as possible. She didn't let Sam in the room with them this time and at the end of his appointment, thrust more pamphlets at him on the way out, still convinced Sam was some sort of addict or abuser that was holding Dean against his will or something, at least that seemed to be the tone he gathered from the pamphlets. Even with that, Dean was feeling pretty good, as good as he was pretty sure he was going to get.

There was a downside, though. He was oozing. It was an exaggeration, but it was the best word he had for it. The websites had told him to expect it and in an abstract way, he knew he had dealt with situations that were much farther up on the gross meter than his current one, but he still would rather be covered in hell-hound blood than deal with any sort of fluid that came from that particular hole. He could hear his father snorting in disapproval each time he had to scrub out each pair of boxers and jeans in the utility sink. The frustration with his body was only compounded with embarrassment when Kevin snuck in like a specter while he was dealing with his laundry one night.

Thankfully, Kevin hadn't actually said much, he just set a box sanitary liners for men on a laundry room table and suggested he try dish soap with baking soda before he slinked back out again. Dean tended to forget that Kevin was a carrier too. It wasn't something they exactly talked about, but Dean did most of the supply runs and he had noticed Kevin staring at him when he thought he wasn't looking. It wasn't so much in fascination or disgust as it was curiosity mixed with a tinge of relief. It was more along the lines of a fleeting expression that said, “oh dear God, that could be me.” Dean knew he should probably have some sort of chat with Kevin over their shared biology, but there was no way in hell that was going to happen. At least not anytime soon.

Apparently, Sam was also feeling a bit better. He had some normalish color to his face, though he still looked tired. He was ambulatory and not running into things. Sam had even made breakfast without incident.

None of this had really registered to Dean in any way until Sam had walked up behind him and suggested they take a “nap.” He had to admit, Sam gently soothing his sides, with his large hands palming Dean’s stomach as his lips pressed to the back of his neck felt good, really good. For once though, Dean just couldn't get his body with Sam's program. Sam had been understanding enough, but Dean couldn't help feeling guilty over the look of disappointment in his eyes.

[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/Sillie82/media/Supernatural3/DeanBigBang%202016/DividerPasifier.png.html)

WEEK 14

Dean had learned that there were scarier things than the internet or a tiny old Asian woman poking around his most private of parts. Sam had talked Dean into going to a local health shop with him. Dean went along more or less just to shut Sam up. It turns out that the old woman Sam had been getting advice to shove down Dean's throat from was actually three women. They had all attacked him at once. The _least_ touchy one had prepared him a goodie bag of wierdassed crap Sam had probably mentioned at one point or another. Dean had mostly let Sam's steady stream of “sage wisdom” go in one ear and out the other. He didn't get to exactly examine the contents of the bag before one of the others, Dean guessed she was the smoothie pusher, started literally poking around on his stomach. Instinctively, Dean clenched his fist and started to draw it back, but Sam must have been keeping a very close eye on him because he grabbed his hand in what probably looked like a romantic gesture to anyone else. The smoothie pusher didn’t seem to notice a thing. She quizzed him in a calm, straightforward manner about pain and energy flow. Dean was fairly certain she was nuts. Then, before he could recover, the third one started in. She told him to enjoy life now, this was the most enjoyable period of pregnancy and went in for the kill. Sam had apparently been tattling to these women about his lack of exercising and not eating his vegetables. She told him horror stories of tearing and broken pelvises. She even had pictures.

As predicted, crazy lady number two was indeed the smoothie pusher, as about the time crazy lady number three's picture show ended, she presented him with something that was a sickly purple color and thick enough to choke a slop loving hog. He was so glad his nose was stuffed up and he couldn't smell anything.

Apparently, the store also had a lending library. Lady number one forced a large stack of books and videos at him. In two weeks, he was expected to have consumed them all and come back to discuss birth strategies and how to rebel against the “man” and the medical establishment that was apparently keeping him down and disconnected from the natural joy of birth as well as numerous other bodily functions he should be “enjoying.” He suspected there would be some kind of test. If there was, he’d happily fail it to salvage what was left of his tenuous mental clarity.

The only reason Sam survived the ride home was the fact that he had looked as surprised by the ambush as Dean was.

Back at the bunker, Dean ordered a large case of hand sanitizer that had massive “maybe you touched your genitals” labels on them to hide in all of Sam's pockets, drawers, and anywhere else they would fit. It had the double whammy of being annoying and something Sam couldn't bitch about. Dean was more susceptible to getting sick and could always claim he was looking out for the baby. There had to be some perks to this pregnancy thing. 

After he finished with that, Dean dragged out the pamphlet from the doctor on the benefits of squats. The idea of tearing his least favorite body part three different directions and possibly his asshole had scared him into action and he thought he should learn to do these things before he got any bigger. Sooner was definitely better than later.

WEEK 15

Dean was fairly proud of his teeth. Considering the lives they led, his teeth were magnificent. His dental care was probably the one part of his hygiene and lifestyle Sam had never hassled him on. He also had been under the delusion that they would be the one part of his body that would go unchanged during this whole pregnancy thing. The blood he spit in the sink whenever he brushed his teeth proved otherwise. To add to his annoyance, he was also out of mouthwash.

He walked into the kitchen to add it to the running supply list in the kitchen. Kevin had insisted it would be easier to have a list they could all add to instead of relying on Dean to remember everything. Dean had snarled about it at the time, but in the four days since then, he had lost his car keys several times in one day, his iPod twice, despite it never leaving his nightstand, and had walked into a room and not remembered why, more times than he could count. To bring this point home that much more, when he went to write mouthwash on the list, he found he had already put it there. He noticed that apple juice was also on the list in his handwriting twice. After looking over both shoulders he marked one out and if questioned, he’d admit to nothing. 

Kevin might have had a point about pregnancy brain being real. With this in mind, Dean tracked the little hermit down in the library. “Uh, Kevin, you were going to show me the nerd stuff on my phone to remember stuff?” Kevin had been an academic overachiever in his pre-prophet life. Dean was willing to bow to his expertise in all things that pertained to electronic organization, as long as Sam didn't have to know about it.

Kevin looked up from what he was reading. “Aren't you supposed to be on your way to a doctor's appointment?”

“That's next week.”

Sam came in on cue. “There you are! Dean we needed to leave like ten minutes ago.”

Okay, pregnancy brain was officially a thing.

WEEK 16

Dean's second encounter with the crazies at the health food shop was not nearly as bad as the first. It was either that, or he was officially desensitized. Only the smoothie pusher was there when he went to return the books they had demanded he read upon his first visit. Shockingly enough to all involved, he had read them. He really could have done without all the graphic pictures and he felt the majority of what he read was crazy hippie mumbo jumbo, but there was some stuff in there that answered some questions he didn't knew he had. The smoothie pusher was actually pretty nice without her pushier counterparts around. She did get him to check more things out from their little library. They actually had books that were male pregnancy specific, a topic the internet had a lot of conflicting information about and most of his other information outlets had little to none. She also talked him into buying a little teapot looking thing that was supposed to help with his nasal congestion. It would be nice to smell again. He was in such a good mood, he didn't even mind that she was trying to figure out the baby's gender and aura by pressing her hands to his belly and chanting. It was a little like having the crazyassed granny he didn't know he wanted.

Sam was clearly trying to ruin Dean's day. He was sure of it. Dean had gone to the health shop alone, on the off chance Sam had been in on the previous ambush. When he got back, Sam was waiting for him in a chair saying they needed to talk. To make matters worse, he had a stack of suspiciously bra looking items with him.

“Dean, you're only going to get bigger.”

“I'm aware of that Sam,” Dean quiped as he eyed the stack of garments to Sam's left as though they were going to attack him on their own volition. If they did, he was more than ready to make a run for it.

“I really think you would be a lot more comfortable...”

“Sam, I'm pretty sure I'll never be comfortable again.”

“Just try them on.”

“Make me.”

“You think I can't?”

Dean studied his brother carefully. Sam was nowhere near one hundred percent, but he had been consistently better lately. His brother could also be an absolute bastard when he wanted to be no matter what physical condition he was in and he could tell Sam wasn't bluffing. Dean groaned and took the offensive garments. “We are doing this in my room and you don't get to watch.”

It wasn't as horrendous as Dean had thought. Sure there were a few things that were undeniably bra like, but most were just basically tank tops. The top parts had enough support that he felt, well supported without actually drawing attention to his chest. The rest was either just loose or stretchy depending on which one he had on. Once he put a shirt on, you couldn't tell it was there or at worst, it looked like he was wearing an undershirt, which was sort of classy in a weird way.

Sam was waiting expectantly outside his door. “Well?”

“One word about this and I am shaving your head in your sleep.”

WEEK 17

Dean wondered why he left the bunker. Everything could be conveniently delivered to their doorstep. Of course, to do so would defeat the purpose of having a top secret bunker location if everything on the planet gets delivered there. Then there was the fact they had to get things from their mailbox, he'd still have to go out in public. If he was going to have to go out in public anyway, he might as well get the instant satisfaction of buying things now instead of having to wait and paying for shipping on top of it.

It wouldn't be quite so bad, as everyone could tell he was pregnant at this point, he wasn't that big but he definitely had that “pregnant man” look, and most people were gracious and eager to bend over backwards for the pregnant person trying to just get through their shopping trip, but somehow, the whole being obviously pregnant thing suddenly gave everyone and their crazy aunt permission to touch his belly without asking. He was close to punching people.

If he didn't feel the need to inhale Sam's weight in food everyday, he probably would have, but it was in his favor to play nice. It is always in one's best interest to keep those with what you need happy, especially if you would be needing them often. He still wanted to punch them.

Kevin called his cell phone while he was waiting in the checkout line at the grocery store. “What?”

“Did you remember the earplugs?”

No, Dean had not remembered the earplugs. “You can live without ear plugs. I'm checking out. I've been molested by seven nosy people who think I am adorable. I'm going home.”

“Dean, you snore like a freight train that can be heard in the next county.”

Dean's witty retort died on his tongue when he heard Sam in the background asking if Dean had remembered the ear plugs. “You both can get your own fucking earplugs.” Two more people were on Dean's “want to punch” list.

WEEK 18

Dean would happily blow whoever invented Kinesio tape. It had taken some experimenting, but he had found a technique that relieved his pain. Getting a belly band would have probably worked just as well, but this was so much easier and cheaper. It also had the fun added benefit of getting Sam to fuss over him. Normally, Dean would be annoyed, but he was starting to like finding little things for Sam to do for him. Also, Sam had developed this weird obsession with touching Dean's belly all the time. Apparently, they both liked it. It creeped Kevin out and he demanded they do “weird pregnancy sex things” in another room. So, it was best that Sam had a decent excuse to touch Dean's belly.

The tape idea had been one of his many internet finds. He was probably spending too much time on the internet, but the more information he found the more questions he had and this whole pregnancy thing was just crazy.

“Did you know I'm going to have to give birth to the placenta?”

Sam looked up at Dean from where he was sitting on the floor taping his brother, looking horrified. “That was random and gross.”

“I thought you were part of the 'birth is beautiful' brigade?” Dean snarked back.

“It's a giant scab that has to be pushed out of you.”

Dean looked down at Sam, surprised that he knew that.

“What? I have internet too, Dean.”

“They want me to eat it.”

“What? Who?”

“Your crazy crones. They want me to eat the placenta. I don't think I want to eat anything I had to push out of my body.”

“Why?”

“I don't know! I checked out about then. There was something about trying it with scrambled eggs or something.”

“Can we please talk about something other an autocannibalism?”

“We haven't come up with any baby names yet.”

“So, they think you should eat the placenta?”

WEEK 19

Dean quietly went into Sam's room and sat on his bed, waking him with the sudden movement. He waited for his brother to say something.

“Dean the baby is supposed to be moving around,” Sam croaked out.

“Ha. Ha. That’s not why I’m in here.”

“Why are you in here?” Sam sat up and tried to smooth down his hair. His health was improving a little. but he was still tired all the time and still suffered from random bouts of coughing up blood.

“I just… never mind.” Dean abruptly got up and waddled from the room.

“What the hell, Dean.” Sam got up and went after him. He managed to catch up to him in the kitchen.

“Dean, what’s wrong?” He stared at his brother with his arms crossed.

“I told you it’s nothing,” he said around a mouthful of Cheetos.

“You woke me up!”

“I was horny, okay!” Dean didn't know why he was yelling, but he felt like he was either going to burst into tears or attack someone and he really didn't know which he preferred at the moment.

“Oh.” Sam’s face scrunched in thought.

“What’s that look for?”

“What look?”

“You’re looking at me like I was speaking Greek or something. Am I that fugly?” Dean’s hand was sitting protectively over his belly. He was doing that a lot lately when he was upset, not that he usually noticed.

“No! I mean, I’m just tired and it never occurred to me…”

“It never occurred to you?” Dean threw his bag of Cheetos at Sam and stomped off to his room, leaving Sam to wonder what he had done. He slammed his door for good measure.

WEEK 20

“Don't do it, Kevin.” Dean was on the exam table waiting. Sam was sick enough, Dean made him stay home, which he hated to do, especially since they were getting another ultrasound today. As much as Dean was dying to know the gender, he was trying to stay firm about not finding out today.

In a surprise twist, Kevin had begged to go with him. Dean was so shocked Kevin actually wanted to leave the bunker, he couldn't say no. However, Kevin's fascination with his belly button was getting a little annoying.

His innie was almost an outie now and Kevin wouldn't stop trying to poke it.

WEEK 21

The baby had been moving a bit already, but that first very distinct kick triggered something. It wasn't like Dean hadn't been concerned about the baby since he found out he was pregnant and there was nothing at any of his doctor's appointments that indicated anything was wrong, but suddenly all he could do was worry. Would he be able to take care of this baby? It had been a long time since he took care of Sam and then he was a kid himself. They still hadn't been able to find anything about human/vampire babies. There was so much that could go wrong when he gave birth. Would he breast feed? Could he breast feed? How was Sam going to deal? He was sweet now, but he could be a moody bastard. Could he help Dean raise someone else's kid long term? Would he be resentful? Would he want to be 'uncle Sam' not 'daddy Sam?' And while Sam wasn't getting any worse, he wasn't really getting any better either and they had no clue how to help him. Would he even be around to help if he wanted to? And what would he tell the kid about Benny? Would he tell the kid about Benny?

Which brought up the other things that bump around in the night. How the hell was he going to raise a kid doing what they do? He couldn't quit entirely. He also didn't want to drag the kid all over the country like their Dad did with them. Hell, would he get too paranoid to let the kid out of the bunker? How many creatures would like to swoop in and snatch a Winchester baby?

He was dialing the phone before he knew he was calling anyone. Who could he even call, really?

“Hey, Jody? I know it's late... no, nothing happened. Well, yeah. Something happened.”

WEEK 22

“Dean, sit,” Sam tried to wrangle his brother onto the edge of the bed. It had finally happened. Dean tried to take a swing at a tummy toucher. Luckily, they had been on their way out of the store when it happened and Dean wasn't used to the new distribution of weight, so he swung too wide and landed on his ass.

He had fumed the whole way home. Apparently, he had been keeping a lot to himself on the subject of people touching or looking at him. He barely paused the whole way home or after they got home. At least Sam seemed to be taking it in stride, nodding in the right places.

“Dean, I'm trying to take your damn shoes off.”

“I can take off my own damn shoes! I'm not helpless!”

Sam sighed. “No one said you were. I was going to rub your feet, you ass.”

At that loud declaration from Sam, Dean grew compliant, even going the extra distance of lifting his feet in the air for easier access.

“Wow, your feet are swollen.” Sam rubbed Dean's feet just enough to get Dean to lay back on the bed and wiggle his toes.

“In case you hadn't noticed, Sam. Pretty much all of me is swollen.”

Sam set Dean's feet down and crawled on the bed next his brother, placing his face near Dean's stomach. “I think I am going to talk to you instead.”

WEEK 23

All Dean wanted was to put his feet up and take a nap while trying to watch a movie. Not a damn thing had gone right today. He had dropped everything he had picked up. He was constantly get sidetracked. He had no idea why Kevin was suddenly slamming all the doors and sulking again. Did he forget something? Okay he forgot a lot of things, but something Kevin specific? To top that all off, for whatever reason, Sam had decided to be on Dean's case every few minutes about not drinking enough water.

Dean was so ready to be done with today.

Then Charlie showed up without warning.

Charlie eyed Dean widely when the boys greeted her outside the bunker. “OMG, he said you were pregnant, but you’re pregnant, pregnant.”

“He?” Dean turned to glare at Sam.

Sam shrugged wide-eyed.

“So, you’re just calling people up and telling them I’m pregnant now?”

“She found the books and called me and we got to talking.” Sam looked Dean up and down. “I really didn’t think it was exactly a secret at this point.”

“...Can’t we burn those books?” Dean changed the subject.

“Sorry, dudes. They’re on the internet.” Charlie half-shrugged.

Dean groaned.

Sam took Charlie by the elbow. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”

Charlie went with him.

Dean was fairly certain he was not going to get his nap.

WEEK 24

“I'm thinking of hiring a doula,” Dean suddenly announced out of nowhere during lunch.

Sam paused mid-bite into his sandwich. Kevin stared.

“What? Some studies show that moms with doulas are less likely to require C-sections, inductions and pain relief, and that births may be shorter with a lower rate of complications.”

“...What are you quoting?” Sam asked.

“Who are you?” Kevin asked incredulously.

“Hey, I need all the help I can get here! Did you see that last birthing video the crazy ladies sent?”

Sam cleared his throat. “It... It was just an unexpected choice from you. Good for you.” He went back to his lunch, obviously troubled though he was pretending not to be.

“I'm still getting the holy water,” Kevin got up from the table and left the room.

WEEK 25

D-day was inching closer and Dean still hadn't figured out where to have the baby. He had really been pushing for the hospital, but the more he thought about it, the less able he was to make a clear decision about it. He wanted to be at the hospital in case something happened. Anything could happen and he wanted to be prepared. On the other hand, his doctor wasn't really listening to him and was too busy trying to convince him to leave Sam and have a C-section. The two things weren't related, but she seemed to think Sam was some sort of drug addict that had brainwashed him into living with him. After the visit Kevin made with him, she had asked him if he belonged to a cult. There wasn't a medical reason for wanting him to do a c-section, at least she hadn't given him one. When he asked about it, she had told him, it was just standard with male pregnancies, even without a medical need because they were more prone to complications. Dean really wanted to avoid having surgery if at all possible. He was going to be vulnerable enough as it was. A demon could possess one of the nurses or the doctor at anytime and... anything could happen.

If he had the baby in the bunker on the other hand, he could control the environment. It would be safe, but if something seriously medically went wrong they would be screwed. Also, they would have to bring the midwife or whoever to the bunker and, seriously, too many people knew right where their supposedly top secret bunker was already. Also, there would probably be chanting.

One thing he knew for sure, he was not giving birth in a pool.

WEEK 26

Dean's insomnia had lead to many things; cleaning at one am, getting in a couple hundred more squats in a day, he would often also discuss his day with the baby, but mostly it lead to him looking up weird things on the internet and trying them out.

Dean could feel Sam watching him while he repeatedly kept trying to wrap a bag of flour in a blanket, as per the instructions on his computer screen.

“Dean, what are you doing?”

“Making a baby burrito,” Dean didn’t look up at Sam in favor of concentrating on wrapping the flour.

“A what?” Sam came closer to where the pictorial step by step instructions for swaddling a baby on the computer screen could be seen.

Dean suddenly lifted up his perfectly swaddled bag of flour and grinned triumphantly.

“Congratulations,” Sam deadpanned.

Dean frowned at Sam’s dry comment. “I’m not sharing my spaghetti.” He walked off towards the kitchen.

“You never do!” Sam called after him.

Dean watched from the kitchen doorway as Sam looked at the swaddled flour and the instructions on the screen and proceeded to try it himself. He snickered to himself as his brother had failed to do so properly. Apparently, making a baby burrito was harder than it looked.

[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/Sillie82/media/Supernatural3/DeanBigBang%202016/DividerBottle.png.html)

WEEK 27

Child birthing class had been intense. It was a three day class. They had just finished their first day, it was all about labor and birth itself. Instead of easing Dean's fears, it ratcheted them up a few notches. He really was going to push a tiny human out of his body in a few weeks. Many things could go wrong with that. Even if everything went right, it was a terrifying proposition. And it was going to hurt. Not that he was afraid of pain, he just didn't like knowing something was going to hurt ahead of time. They didn't really present him with any information he hadn't already learned elsewhere, but it was more real now for some reason. Maybe it was the hands on part of it; actually trying the positions and relaxation techniques, and having Sam there pretending to be his labor coach. He hoped Sam took good notes.

The next day was supposed to be basic newborn care. Dean noticed that Sam had looked a little scared as the instructor was going over what they were going to be talking about and trying with little dolls.

Neither had said much of anything on the ride home or over dinner. Now, Sam was trying to help Dean get his ring off with a bit of butter before his finger got any fatter. He still looked troubled and Dean realized he had never actually asked Sam a very important question.

“You... you are going to be my birth partner right? I mean I get it if you're not. It's gross and its weird and it's technically not your kid and you probably don't want to see that...”

Sam paused his rubbing of Dean's finger. “Dean... like they are actually going to keep my out of the delivery room. I'll just stay by your head, unless something happens, like a, uh, our kind of emergency.”

Dean let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

WEEK 28

Sam sat down at the table next to his brother. “Dean, what did you do to Kevin?”

Dean looked up from what he was writing. “Kevin? I didn’t do anything to Kevin.”

“He just came into my room and said, ‘he’s your brother, you deal with him.’”

“He isn’t getting anymore donuts.”

Dean could see Sam was dying to say something about the donuts. “What are you working on anyway?”

“Hospital bag list.”

“You do know you aren’t going to need that for like twelve weeks, right? And I thought you decided you wanted to give birth here?” It was something they had been fighting about frequently.

“Maybe I thought you were right, okay?!” Dean took a few deep breaths before continuing. The doctor had warned him about getting too worked up over things. “There are just so many different lists about what you need or don’t need and almost none of them are geared towards men. All these stupid mommy bloggers think it’s so cute to put up a damn list made of pictures instead of words, it’s hard to know what the hell anything is.” He took another deep breath. “I made Kevin make me a chart. Then I made a list, well lists. Most people seem to divide things up into when you need stuff.”

“Okay. Care to share with the class?” Dean was pretty sure Sam was just humoring him, but at the moment he was okay with that.

“Really?”

“Yes, Dean. Really.”

“Okay.” Dean read; _Labor Bag – Socks (soft, warm), tissues, slippers, robe, hard candy, snacks, granola bars, sports drinks, water bottle, straws, gum; “Mommy” bag - Flip flops (for shower), nursing bras /tanks, Underwear (lots), PJs (two sets, front button tops), Going home clothes (yoga pants recommended by everyone), toothbrush/toothpaste, shampoo/conditioner, deodorant, razor, Lotion; Baby bag - baby clothes (hats, onesie, sleeper, socks/mittens), baby blanket, Breastfeeding pillow thing, car seat (installed), diapers, baby wipes; Medicine bag - pads (the ugly thick kind), nipple cream (coconut oil can be lotion, nipple cream, and baby lotion), nursing pads, stool softener, Tuck’s pads, Dermoblast pain relieving spray; Other - Camera, phone charger, Tic-Tacs, Essential paperwork (birth plan, id, payment, other randomassed crap), Phones, pumping supplies, meal service thing_. He looked at Sam.

He nodded. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Who knew you needed so much crap to push out a kid?” Dean almost smiled.

Sam chuckled. “Yeah.”

Dean’s face fell a little. “You know, most of these places have a ‘daddy’ list too.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“’Daddy’ Bag - Comfy Clothes and PJ x2, Button up shirt/zip up hoodie, Blanket/pillow, Toiletries,” Dean read off his paper.

“You forgot my laptop.”

“Yeah?” Dean looked both suspicious and hopeful.

“You do know I’m going to be there, right?”

Dean shook off the comment like it was a given. “Yeah, of course.”

“Really, Dean. I’m going to be there.”

“I know!”

WEEK 29

Dean lounged on his bed with a protein bar and glass of apple juice. The baby was being difficult tonight. It had already been an hour and he hadn't been able to count ten movements yet. He knew it didn't necessary mean anything was wrong, but he'd feel better if the kid would act up a bit. After lunch, there was some sort of dance party going on inside him, so he was pretty sure the kid was tired. Still, three more movements would be awesome. He thought a snack might get things going again.

A knock at the door caught his attention. Sam only knocked if the door was locked and Kevin usually just barged in, but they also knew this was supposed to be quiet time. “Sam?”

The door opened just enough for Kevin to poke his head in. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Dean was just shocked he asked.

Kevin came in, sat on the bed, and stared at Dean's stomach. “...is it doing stuff?”

“The baby's tired I think.”

“Yeah.” Kevin continued to look at Dean's stomach with fascination and horror.

Dean took Kevin's hand and put it where most of the activity had been taking place lately. “The kid'll perk up.”

“Is it as bad as it looks?”

“Worse... When was the last time you were on birth control?”

“I was dating a girl!”

“So someone is overdue for a doctor's appointment.” No one really helped Dean with this stuff. He wasn't letting Kevin fall through the cracks too. The baby seemed to agree, giving a couple kicks and a roll in approval.

WEEK 30

Dean had enough of those empowering pregnancy slogans that seemed plastered all over everywhere he went lately; the doctor’s, the stupid pregnancy and parenting class Sam made him go to, the internet, the pharmacy, the damn things were everywhere. They all had these serene looking women (and occasionally men) all barely dressed with stupid slogans about the wonder of creation and being closer to god or nature or whatever thing you were supposed to be getting in touch with, but the one that really made Dean lose it was the one that had new and pregnant moms as superheroes. He did not feel like a superhero. He felt tired and useless. Sam was already a mess and now Dean was busy dropping things and forgetting things and getting dizzy, among a myriad of other symptoms. Kevin wouldn’t even let him make his own lunch the other day. So, it really shouldn’t have surprised Sam when said superhero poster met with an “accident” after he parked Dean on a bench facing the pharmacy while he ran in to grab a sandwich and prenatal vitamins.

WEEK 31

Dean was dozing lightly when he felt Sam slide closer to him in the bed. It had been a good day for both of them. It felt amazing to feel Sam's hand slide over his stomach and palm it protectively. Dean reveled in it. Sam’s lips ghosted over his neck. Dean tilted his head to the side, inviting more. 

“You know,” Sam mumbled between kisses, “the doctor said…”

Dean whirled around to cover Sam’s mouth with his hand. “Don’t talk about it. Just do it.” He moved his hand and kissed Sam. It had been too long and Dean didn’t want Sam ruining the moment by reminding him the doctor had said sex might be a good idea if he was insisting on not having a c-section. 

Sam kissed him. They awkwardly undressed each other. The hungry leer Sam gave Dean while he looked his body up and down went straight to his cock. It really had been too long. 

He kissed down Dean’s body. Dean relaxed into the bed, letting Sam take care of him. He gasped at the first swipe of Sam’s tongue along his cock. He wasn’t going to last like this, with Sam’s mouth working him like that. 

Dean was so close until he felt that first questioning finger stroke against that one place it had never been allowed to go before. Dean tensed up. Sam paused, waiting. Dean thought a moment about shutting this down completely, but he really did want this. He wanted to feel Sam there and what was there to be afraid of now? What was Sam going to do, get him more pregnant?

“It’s okay,” Dean breathed out and spread his legs more emphasizing the point. 

Sam’s mouth went back to working his cock. Dean relaxed, letting himself get lost in the sensations. Sam’s fingers gently teased him, carefully sliding inside. It had never been like that before and Dean came embarrassingly quickly. 

Sam slid up his body and kissed him. He moved Dean onto his side and spooned behind him, half leaning over him. His cock slowly pushed into where it had never been before. Dean was grateful for Sam’s gentleness. He was normally all teeth. 

They rocked slowly together until Dean came again and Sam shortly thereafter. 

Dean wondered why they hadn’t done this earlier. 

WEEK 32

Dean was sure they were conspiring against him, all of them. Who hell decided he wanted a baby shower?

It was a surprise shower at that. 

Sam had grabbed Dean by the elbow while he was on his way to take a nap, informing him that he needed to go to the library immediately. When they had got there and Sam opened the door, Dean did not hold back on his loud lecture about not making pregnant people panic. There was no emergency. There was the saddest baby shower ever conceived. Pink and blue streamers were taped to the wall in no particular pattern. The food table was covered in pink and blue confetti shaped like onesies. The plates had a double pattern, pink polka dots on one side, blue zebra stripes on the other, with matching double sided napkins and cups. Above the whole thing was a banner that read, “Welcome Baby Winchester” written with electrical tape. Apparently, Kevin had been in charge of decorating. Charlie roughly placed a paper crown on Dean's head while he was yelling at Sam. Jodie rounded out their little soiree and had been the mastermind behind the whole thing. Dean was willing to mostly forgive her when he saw the mass quantity of food she'd brought. It included roasted chicken, a separate whole one just for Dean, mashed potatoes, and a bunch of other lovely smelling dishes that looked suspiciously like vegetables. He took points away when he saw that she had also brought a very large cake decorated in frothy pastel colors that read, “Congratulations, Dean!” in swirly script on top. Sadly, there was no pie in sight.

Sam led Dean by the elbow to a couch to sit on his “throne.” Kevin had covered it in pink and blue tissue paper and gold Christmas garland. Jody thrust a plate of food at him the moment he sat down and Kevin started handing out baby bottles full of margarita mixer. Dean figured he could polite enough if they were going to feed him, but then he was going to go take a nap.

Apparently, however they also expected him to open presents. Jodi had been exceptionally generous. Most of her gifts were practical; diapers, laundry soap, baby bath things, but there were also the more personal items; second hand books and clothes that Dean was fairly certain had belonged to her son. She had also thrown in a couple new toys and a few things Dean didn't know they were for, but Jodi promised him they would come in handy later. He felt uncomfortable being showered with this much generosity. It also reminded him that while they had been busy trying to deal with being prepared for his pregnancy, they hadn't really done anything to prepare for after the baby was here.

Charlie had also been generous with the gifts. Dean was pretty sure she had picked up every geeky toy, smartassed onesie, and baby gadget that caught her eye since she'd discovered he was pregnant a few weeks ago. He managed to smile gratefully and suffer through her taking pictures of him “modeling” onesies laid across his belly, despite his growing panic over what they were going to do once the baby was born.

Dean was pretty sure he was doing a good job covering it up, until Sam brought out the car seat. Then Dean abruptly left the room. He was pretty sure he was going to be sick.

He was surprised when it was Jodi that followed him. “Dean?”

“I don't want to be Dad,” Dean blurted out.

Jodi came closer.

“I don't want my kid to live out of the back seat of a car! I want 'em to have friends and school dances and a damn high school diploma! I can't do this! Look at our fucking lives! We didn't even think out where we're going to put the kid! Where the hell is it going to sleep? And how the hell do you baby proof a bunker? I can't even stay out of shit and I know better! And what if Sam leaves?”

“Dean, look at everything Sam's been doing he's not going to...”

“No! What if Sam... leaves?” His voice was high and desperate. He prayed that Jodi understood because he couldn't say 'What if Sam died for good?' He could barely think it.

Jodi put her hands on each side of Dean's face and gently tilted his head to look at her. “Dean, you're not alone. You can do this.”

“I don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing!”

“No one does, Dean. Trust me.”

“What if...”

“Whatever it is, Dean. We'll deal with it. You've got Sam. You've got me. You've got friends. We've got this.” She raised up on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead. “You done? Can we go back to the party now?”

Dean nodded and let her lead him back to the library. She sat down next to him on his “throne.” He and Sam exchanged a look and Dean was pretty sure he wasn't going to get his nap today.

Charlie cleared her throat. “So, um, games?”

Dean groaned. He and Jodie both protested in unison, “No stupid party games.”

“But I have a bucket of tiny toy babies and a tiny catapult.”

“Sam, get the tape measure. We're playing for distance.”

WEEK 33

Last night had been difficult. Dean was trying to forget about it. Neither of them meant anything that happened. He knew Sam was exhausted. Dean knew Sam had been baiting him, but he took it anyway. Obviously, they still had a lot of things on their minds. They'd screamed about Benny, the bunker, what the hell to do about Kevin, the state of the trials, Dean's pregnancy, and anything else they could lob at each other. They knew exactly how to make it hurt. He shouldn't have punched Sam, but Sam shouldn't have shoved him. Now, Dean wasn't sure if he really cared about that. They had always been physical with each other and Dean never really cared if he got hurt, but him getting hurt wasn't necessarily going to hurt just him right now. Dean was more upset about his abruptly sitting on the floor and bawling uncontrollably in the aftermath, then angry about anything else that happened. He still couldn't figure out why he did that.

They'd been avoiding each other all day. Maybe that was what they needed.

They knew each other's points of views. There was no need to rehash all that. Then again, maybe keeping all that unsaid was why they blew up last night.

Thinking about it all was just giving Dean a headache.

He was a little surprised when Sam came to check on him, but only a little. And gladly took Sam's peace offering of a bag of McDonald’s apple pies.

WEEK 34

Sometimes, Dean was pretty sure he was a genius. He needed more rest, but his belly was always in the way of getting comfortable. He inflated an inner tube, laid it on the bed, and threw a blanket over it. He crawled onto the bed and lowered his belly into the hole in the inner tube. It was perfect.

WEEK 35

“Dean, you really have to make a decision.” Dean had been flip flopping again about having the baby at the hospital or the bunker.

“There is no way to secure the hospital.”

“Dean how often do we go to the hospital with no problems?”

“And how many times have we had issues? And what about when they take my baby off to the nursery?”

“Having the baby here is a horrible idea, Dean.”

“I don't hear you offering any better suggestions.”

“We could find a hunter or hunter friendly...”

Dean cut him off. “My baby's father was a vampire.”

“Which might have absolutely no effect on the baby. Vampires are basically just humans with some extra.”

“But we don't know that.”

Kevin walked in and slapped down a stack of papers between the two brothers. “There is a small birthing center at the other end of town. Your doctor has privileges, they don't care if you bring your crazy hippie person, it’s small enough and weird enough that we can get away with warding your room when you get there, and they have a full emergency medical facility on site. Oh, and they will let the baby stay in your room if you request it.”

The boys blinked at Kevin. Why hadn't they thought of that?

“Thanks, Kevin.”

WEEK 36

Dean's nesting had taken an interesting turn. At first, he was just cleaning everything, then came the wave of being overly concerned with safety that lead to the great locked toilet lids incident. Now, he had entered a pillow phase. If you sat on it, it got a pillow or three. It you laid on it, it got a mountain of pillows. If it could sit two or more people, it got a fuzzy blanket for napping. Even Dean thought this was ridiculous, but he couldn't help himself.

WEEK 37

“Dean, I’m really not comfortable with this.” Kevin pleaded.

“Just explain it to me again.” Dean looked at the items in front of him, intent on concentrating this time.

“I’ve explained it three times, already.”

“Yeah, but my brain keeps going to the snacking potential in front of me.” He gestured towards the table.

Kevin sighed. “Alright, but this is the last time. The cheerio is one centimeter dilation, the banana slice is three centimeters, the cracker is four centimeters, the soda can is seven centimeters, and the bagel is ten centimeters.”

Dean picked up the bagel and looked at it carefully. “And how much bigger is the baby’s head than the bagel?”

“Just eat the bagel and try not to think about it, Dean.” Kevin left the kitchen before Dean could come up with more questions.

“You know you’re starting to sound like the Sasquatch pouting in the other room!” He yelled after him.

WEEK 38

Dean had been cooking for three days straight. Part of him knew this day would come. He had consumed too many mommy blogs. Laid out before him were partitioned trays filled pre-made meals, bags of soups, vacuum sealed cookies, zipper bags of pre-measured Sam smoothie ingredients, and double sealed meat all ready to fill the bunker's generous freezer. Who knew you could cook for three months at once?

[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/Sillie82/media/Supernatural3/DeanBigBang%202016/DividerSocks.png.html)

BIRTH

It happened in the middle of the night. Dean woke up and was pretty damn sure it was a contraction. When the next one hit less than five minutes later, he smacked Sam in the side until he woke up. It took longer than Dean would have liked for Sam's brain to fully kick on and get with the program. They timed the contractions which were coming in painfully strong about every five minutes or so as they got dressed enough to leave the bunker, Dean with more help from Sam than he would have liked.

It wasn't anything like in the movies. There was no comical running around confused or leaving anything important behind. Sam woke up Kevin. Dean found a towel to sit on in-case his water broke in the car. Kevin called the doctor, doula aka Gladis the smoothie lady, and birthing center once he was awake. Sam loaded Dean and their various accouterments in the car while Dean barked orders at him. Getting Kevin in the car was a bit more difficult. At the last moment, he had decided maybe he didn't want to be around to witness “the miracle of birth.” Dean shoved him into the backseat and away they went. It was all going just like they'd practiced.

The next few hours were a lot of hurry up and wait. Dean called Jodi. Sam and Kevin “prepared the room,” which Gladis assured Dr. Ueda was part of their deeply important spiritual practice. Dean wondered what all Gladis knew exactly, but found himself not caring as contractions got closer together. Sam walked the hallways with him a few times. Gladis told Dean a lot of things that Dean's brain only processed as “sparkly hippie shit” and Kevin regularly updated him on the show down between Gladis and Dr. Ueda that was apparently happening in the hallway. Dean didn't care. Sam brought him ice chips, held his hand, and scolded him for swearing at the nurses. That was what mattered at the moment. Most of the night was filtered through alternating bouts of boredom and pain.

Until it was time for the main event that is. Dean was going to kill whoever talked him into having a natural birth. Gladis and Sam coached him through it while Kevin threw up in a corner. Dr. Ueda was even encouraging for once.

Sometime before dawn, Dean gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. He stared at her in amazement while he held her to his chest, not caring one bit that she was still covered in blood and goo. She was his own perfect little girl with ten fingers and ten toes. And no fangs. He checked. That would have made feeding her a bitch.

“Hey Sam?” Dean's voice sounded high and exhausted even to his own ears.

“Yeah?” Sam whispered next to Dean's head.

“You think we should call her Samantha?”

Sam kissed the side of Dean's head. They still had their problems, but they'd be alright.


End file.
